


Or only I too small

by zinjadu



Series: Wed to Blight [53]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Love, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Landsmeet, Protective Warden, Scared Alistair, Sexy Times, Supportive Relationship, her unserious gentle man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: The night before the Landsmeet, and Alistair is terrified.  Terrified they'll put him on that throne no matter what.  All that stands between him and a crown is one tiny woman who refuses to let him go.  Maker let it be enough.Note:This series is fully drafted!  I'm so happy we're coming to the end here guys.  The Landsmeet is just around the corner, and after that, well.  It's the end run, and some scary choices for our dear kids.  Much love for everyone who has been reading and leaving kudos and commenting.  Long way from where I stared, but thanks for coming along for the ride. <3
Relationships: Alistair/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Tabris (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: Wed to Blight [53]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/879681
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Or only I too small

Caitwyn drummed her fingers on the glass of the small, lead-lined window. Alistair’s face, lit by the warm candlelight, broke into a crooked grin as he unlocked it. She slipped inside like she had every night since they’d arrived at Eamon’s estate. Strong arms held her close, and he kissed her deeply as he hadn’t seen her in several spans instead of merely hours ago at supper.

At supper where they sat at opposite ends of the great table and spoke as friends and fellow Wardens only—Teagan’s warning never far from her thoughts even if Alistair didn’t quite believe it. There was a permanent knot between her shoulders. Their watchers were unsubtle yet ubiquitous. Day after day of prying eyes following her, keeping a watch over him. Him never allowed too far from Eamon’s side when they were at the estate. Suspicion twisting noble mouths, and nothing for her to do but pretend she did not notice. Or care.

At nights and behind a locked door once again, she leapt into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and he stumbled off balance with a muffled yelp. He wheeled backwards until hit the edge of the bed. They fell in a tangle of limbs, and the small garret room under the eaves of the roof faded into insignificance. 

All that was was each other. Gently, he undid the ties of her thief’s grey-and-blacks, and she pulled up his thin shirt to run her hands down his chest and stomach. Lips and hands could do much, but she pulled him on top of her greedily. He moved over her, careful, gentle, and she rose to meet him until they laid curled together and pleasantly spent.

On the bedside table, the candle had burned down to the nub; she needed but little to see by. The moon and the stars made up the rest, and she nuzzled in the crook of his arm. Sleep dragged at her eyes, but an unusual tension ran along his body. He held himself as though braced for a blow.

Propping her chin on his chest, she examined him as he gazed up into the dark rafters overhead. Idly, she played with the soft tuft of hair on his chest, ruddy in the low light.

“Alistair,” she whispered. “What is it?”

“Landsmeet is tomorrow.” There was a remoteness to his voice, as though he were remarking on some distant, far off thing, and yet there was no denying how very close tomorrow was. If it wasn’t tomorrow already. 

His chest rose and fell quickly, and a shiver travelled up his belly. One arm tightened around her waist, but his gaze fixed on a point past the darkness of the ceiling. Above them were thick oak beams and solid planks of wood, but in the shadows he conjured his own visions. In the shadows lurked haunted visions of a life alone, isolated under an ill fitting crown. In a blink, she saw it, too, him torn away from her despite his protests, and made to bend and twist until he fit the picture of a king. Until her unserious, gentle man was made stern and cold for the sake of a duty that had never been his.

“They could still do it, you know,” he said, as if speaking too loudly of it might tempt fate to cruel purpose. “Put me on the throne no matter what.”

“I won’t let them,” she bit out fiercely. Her fingers curled into claws, ready to scratch their eyes out like she was a jealous wife. She had brokered a deal, but it could still be broken. He chuckled without mirth but brought the backs of her hand to his lips. 

“Much as I would enjoy seeing you telling everyone off, love, they really could do it.” Darkness deeper than the night lurked in his eyes. She propped herself up right and pressed her palms to either side of his stubborn head with its long nose and the dusting of freckles she loved dearly and the fuzz on his chin that she did not. But all of it was  _ him,  _ and thus she loved it all. 

“I. Won’t. Let. Them. You’re  _ mine _ , you hear me? And I am going to keep you.” A statement of fact that she would enforce on the world come what may. That crooked smile bloomed on his face again, and he cupped her face in his hands, thumbs stoking her cheeks.

“You’re beautiful when you’re terrifying and territorial.” That gentle, teasing tone mostly hid the lingering fear that made the apple of his throat bob up and down. Deftly, she traced the lines of his face, his brow, his nose, his lips, and she wondered. Had it been like this for him, when she had been trapped in a hell of her own making? When she had been able to see what  _ was _ for fear of  _ what had been  _ and  _ what might yet be _ . His patience has been as vast as the ocean. Hers could be the same.

With a huff she curled her legs underneath herself and placed her hands over his and squeezed. A silent  _ I am here _ . “Alistair,” she said softly. “You’ve said ‘no’ at every turn. We both know what kind of person thinks refusal doesn’t matter.”

“Only the exact kind of person who will be there tomorrow.” Bitter anger bled through his voice. 

Her mouth pressed into a line. If soft words wouldn’t get through to him, something else might. “Do you think there would come a day when you’d regret not being king?”

“What!? No!” he cried, sitting up. “Never. Not  _ ever _ .” His vehemence would have startled anyone who didn’t know him. Didn’t know that jokes and jibes and japes hid a fire, like magma under a mountain. She watched as his anger bubbled up; not anger at her, but the whole mess. Tears of frustration stood in his eyes and he scrubbed a hand through already messy hair. “Not just because I don’t want it, but because… because  I want  _ you _ . Want a life with you.. If I’m king. If I’m  _ king _ , then. Then.”

What came after  _ then _ stuck in his throat, and she pulled him to her. Her arms were small but stronger than expected. He sank against her like she could hold him up. He buried his face in her short hair and breathed deep. A shudder ran through him, and she let her fingers trail down his back. For long moments, she held him, and slowly he disentangled himself and wiped at his eyes. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, a break in the middle of his voice.

“You,” she said as she helped dry his eyes, “don’t have anything to be sorry about. Alistair, I  _ understand _ . I know you’re afraid, but I’m  _ here _ . I’m not going to leave you alone, and I’m not going to turn my back on you and leave you to the wolves. Just like how you didn’t with me.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “So you’ll protect me from the big, bad nobles,” he drawled. “All five feet, one hundred pounds of you?”

“Maethor’ll help.”

“Oh, they better run now.”

“If they know what’s good for them, they will.”

“Hm, true. Your dog is good in a fight.” He drew her hands to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss there before folding them over his heart. She felt it through his chest, the steady drum of him that always gave itself away, always was true, and Maker willing, always hers.

“You won’t be alone,” she told him in a whisper. Apprehension pinched the corners of his eyes, but he breathed out slowly and nodded. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss, and he sighed under her mouth, tension ebbing out of his body. They both needed sleep, but. She nudged him back against the headboard and threw a leg over his hips, straddling him. 

A strangled yelp met her lips, but it dissolved into a rumbling chuckle. “That’s new,” he muttered around a lazy grin.

“Do you mind new?” she asked, heat bleeding into her cheeks.

“With you? Not at all.” He rose up and sank the long fingers of one hand into the short curls of her hair before capturing her lips for another kiss. This time, she worked herself over him, and he met her eagerly. The small bed rocked with them until the candle gutted its last and they fell asleep twined together.

The pink and orange rays of dawn arrived all too soon, but she had already stolen away and prayed that she could keep her promise to him as he had to her. That as he had kept her nightmares at bay, she could do the same for him.


End file.
